April

We have put winter behind us like an illness
we thought we’d never shake. We find spring
in our legs, and the strength to climb, to earn
a view. Up here are all the sunny days
to come. We stand with sky around our heads
and own the busy ocean at our feet, bounded
by dark hills. The rocky outcrops are cliffs
and a city floats, an island of white towers.

On the high ground, above a dry stone wall,
the air is transparent. Our eyes fall
to the grass around our hands,
to the mountain pansies, brave enough
to be alive. We look forward
to adder’s tongue, moonwort, orchids.

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The fourth poem written by Ailsa Holland as Tegg’s Nose Poet in Residence. Photo by Lili Holland-Fricke.